


Standard Procedure

by howler32557038



Series: The Handler [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Play, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Forced Orgasm, HYDRA Trash Party, Latex, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Praise Kink, Prostate Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howler32557038/pseuds/howler32557038
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You remember me?” he asked, then added, politely, “A small nod will do.”<br/>The Asset managed to do just that.<br/>“Good.” The Asset could hear the smile in Pierce’s voice. “Then what do you say we dispense with the pleasantries?”</p><p>Alexander Pierce performs a few routine checks on the Winter Soldier after he's brought out of cryostasis. Of course, a man of his standing doesn't necessarily have to follow instructions to the letter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standard Procedure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [howelleheir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelleheir/gifts).



The Asset remembered mercifully little about the cryostasis chamber. He remembered the steps which preceded it: stripping off; watching as one of the techs would slip a needle into the crook of his elbow and depress the plunger; standing with his arms outstretched as they rubbed him down with dry towels, wicking away any sign of moisture from his skin; his vision becoming dark at the edges from the drugs as he stepped inside the chamber and leaned against the cold ceramic. Then, the brilliant blue of the warning lights as the tech locked the door into place, followed by hiss of opening valves and the haze as liquid nitrogen filled the air. _Blue_. Even when his eyes slid shut, he still saw the blaring, freezing blue.

And then, as if no time had passed at all, the blue would become warm, stinging red. His mouth would open and he would feel the dryness of his swollen tongue, he’d take his first deep, conscious breath and his chest would ache from disuse, shift minutely on the table and feel the unbearable tingle in every muscle. There would be monitors taped to his head and chest. There would be a machine beside him, slowly counting out each heartbeat with soft, even tones. His forehead and genitals would be covered by heat packs wrapped in cloth, and there would be dry towels swathed around his feet and his flesh hand. He rarely remembered why everything was red, until he could force his eyes open. _Heat lamps._

“Waking up?”

The Asset heard the voice from somewhere to his right. Firm, demanding. His eyes followed it, watering as they struggled to adjust to the screaming red all around him. _Lukin?_ The man was leaning against a table, silhouetted against the pale glow of a work lamp. The Asset couldn’t see his face, and his slowly-returning vision could only guess that the man was tall, with light, wavy hair. The lamp-light streamed through the gaps between his reclining body and his hands, which grasped the table’s edge, casting a cool brilliance against the tan skin of his arms - bared by a haphazard roll of his sleeves - and a white sheen on the latex gloves he wore, playing dizzyingly off one lense of the glasses hanging loosely from his grasp as he toyed with them between the fingers of his left hand.

 _Not Lukin. Pierce._ He didn’t remember Lukin wearing glasses. The man pushed himself away from the edge of the table, standing to his full height. His hands drifted together in front of his body, becoming lost in shadow, but the Asset thought he could hear the minute whisper of fingertips against the metal as Pierce continued to touch them distractedly. The Asset tried to speak, but his voice - he should have known - wouldn’t work just yet.

Pierce laughed - a low rasping hum. “Bet you’re wondering where your techs are. Well, maybe not. Maybe you’re not quite up to speed just yet. The cryo-technician who I originally contacted to be here - he has pneumonia. Now, you’ve got one hell of an immune system, but it’s a little compromised when you come out of cryostasis. You’re too valuable to take that sort of risk with, don’t you think?”

The Asset rasped in response, wishing that he could put into words that he felt...worthless, not _valuable_. He wasn’t sure he could stand.

“So, I’m going to be covering for him. You remember me?” he asked, then added, politely, “A small nod will do.”

The Asset managed to do just that.

“Good.” The Asset could hear the smile in Pierce’s voice. “Then what do you say we dispense with the pleasantries?”

The Asset shut his eyes again, the red finally becoming too bright to tolerate. Thankfully, Pierce rolled the heat lamps away from the table, giving the Asset a few wonderful moments that seemed, in comparison, like total darkness. The ringing in his ears and the ache in his head settled momentarily, but then were back for a screaming reprise as the exam lamp over the table clicked on. He whimpered softly at the shock, and then steeled himself for whatever punishment that inevitably entailed. It didn’t come.

“Sorry about that. Here,” said Pierce with a chuckle, and to the Asset’s surprise, he reached up and slid the warm cloth on his forehead down over his eyes, blocking out the light. “Better?”

Grateful, the Asset forced a whisper from his itching throat. “Yes..sir.”

“Wonderful,” Pierce crooned. “Just relax. I know the basic standard procedures your usual tech would have performed. Luckily, there’s a check-list. I might not be as efficient and quick as he would have been, but I’m an eager amateur.”

The Asset could hear the sharp scratch of pen on paper as Pierce spoke. “Already got your heart-rate and blood-pressure while you slept. Guess I'm off to a good start for efficiency.” The scratching stopped, and within seconds, the wraps were removed from his limp right hand. He felt the warmth of Pierce’s fingers on his wrist, lifting it up, and a singular caress of Pierce’s thumb across the breadth of his palm. “Wiggle your fingers for me.”

He did, shivering as the pins and needles shot from wrist to shoulder, but it wasn’t intolerable. The warm towels covering his feet were next. Preemptively, he flexed his toes and ankles.

“Good,” said Pierce. “No significant pain or numbness? You can shake your head.”

The Asset shook his head, but accompanied it with a quiet, “No, sir.”

Pierce lifted the towel and heat-pack off of his hips, and then reached his gloved hand between the Asset’s thighs to draw up his testicles. The Asset tensed as Pierce applied gentle pressure to each side. “Any numbness there?” Pierce asked again.

“No, sir.” The Asset wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he’d responded too quickly. He felt his face flush and tried to ignore it. He felt Pierce’s thumb and forefinger next, pinching lightly from the base of his cock up to his foreskin. “And there?”

“No,” was the most the Asset could manage. He could feel blood pooling in his pelvis now, making him stiff in Pierce’s hand. He swallowed audibly.

Pierce let out a sharp breath from his nose, like a laugh, but not at all derisive. “Don’t worry about it. Means you’re getting blood-flow back.” His hands were still lingering near the Assets hips. “And I’m a little older than your techs. Makes me very difficult to surprise.”

Pierce’s hands left him after that, and the Asset almost missed them, their warmth and firmness. The pen scratched against the paper again, followed by the sound of Pierce’s footsteps and the opening of a case, probably on the table, where Pierce had been leaning. The sting of a needle and the suction of blood being drawn from his right arm followed. More shifting as Pierce packaged the blood-sample.

“Can you roll on your side?“ Pierce asked.

The Asset tested his muscles, and was about to give an unsure “yes,” when Pierce changed his mind. “Actually, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.”

The Asset heard metal scrape against metal at the foot of the table, shaking it slightly. The sound repeated on the other side. Then, the feeling of Pierce’s hands wrapping firmly over his ankle and calf, and Pierce lifted his leg into a stirrup. Pierce must have been stronger than he looked. The Asset felt no strain in the man’s arms, and he was dead weight. Pierce circled the table and secured his right foot in the adjacent stirrup. The Asset didn’t remember this part being standard procedure, but Pierce was gentler than his usual handler, of that he was certain, and the cloth over his eyes, blocking the glaring exam light, told him it was better to stay silent and unquestioning, and firmly in this man’s good graces.

The Asset thought he heard the pop of a lid opening, then shutting moments later, which was all the warning he got before Pierce’s gloved finger, coated in lubricant, pressed between his thighs and then, after two slow circles, inward. The Asset’s mouth hung slack, relaxed and not exactly fearful, but he could feel a dangerous sense of... _what_? Of _curiousity_ balling up in his gut. For once, he felt strangely comfortable in complacency and obedience. The latex-covered finger withdrew, and was promptly replaced with something colder, and certainly not as comfortable - thin, hard. Glass or metal. Probably a thermometer. The Asset decided that was the case, since Pierce kept it still inside him, pressed in deep and angled up.

“There are a two lower-level techs here tonight,” Pierce remarked casually. “They’ll be taking care of the PT, and a handler will be here a little later to get you debriefed.” Pierce slid the thermometer out, leaving the soldier feeling oddly empty. Not just empty. Something else. _Hungry?_ The Asset knew that the symptom and the apparent catalyst were biologically unrelated, but it was something _like_ hunger. The word just wouldn’t come to him. “Your BBT is a little lower than normal. They’ll want to put you on the treadmill for a while to get it back up.”

The Asset didn’t respond, but Pierce must have seen the way the corners of his mouth tightened. His body was still tingling painfully, and his muscles were stiff and cold. The treadmill didn’t sound appealing. He clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt to keep them waiting a few more minutes. They’re here on my dime, after all. We’ll try some creative methods of getting that basal temperature back to normal and check it again. Spare you a half hour of running nowhere.” The soldier felt Pierce’s smile. “Besides, I shouldn’t send you out there in that state. I don’t think the techs would appreciate it.”

The soldier felt a blush rise on his cheeks again. He knew what Pierce was talking about. He couldn’t see just how damning the evidence was, but he could feel the growing heaviness between his legs, had felt his testicles draw up when Pierce had touched him, and there was a humming in his veins. The nearby heart monitor’s tones had become faster, more erratic. Even after years of depersonalization and dehumanization, some part of his mind, somewhere, knew that this was something he should be ashamed of. Maybe something he _was_ once ashamed of, before he’d been repurposed. Now, to most of the more experienced technicians, it seemed to be something that just happened from time to time. It was usually ignored and rarely commented upon, and the Asset wasn’t usually questioned or punished for it. So, to the soldier, it seemed inconsequential. Except that now, the hardness and warm feeling in the pit of his stomach was causing a strange, near-forgotten feeling  - an uncomfortable sense of self-awareness and a distressing lack of control of his own anatomy.

The stirrups slid a little further up the table, clicking into locks as Pierce pushed them higher, until the soldier’s inner thighs began to protest at the stretch. Pierce stopped pushing just before the burn of stretching muscles became painful. “Still comfortable?” he asked. His voice seemed lower, softer, and there was the slightest tremor in it, although it sounded neither unsure nor gentle.

“Yes, sir.”

A zipper, quickly unfastened. Drawers opening and shutting. And then, something cool and round came to rest just above the soldier’s navel. He wasn’t sure what it was. “You’ll have to hold still,” Pierce advised firmly. “Or you may end up wearing more of this than you get in the dish.” A dish, for collecting samples. The Asset could remember experiencing a similar procedure at some point, and he thought back on the next step with growing apprehension. He’d been in stirrups, then, too. Something hard and cold had been pushed inside him, it’s edges digging into his flesh before scissoring up too fast, and he’d been so startled and it had stung so intensely that he’d tried desperately to pull away, and the techs had decided to restrain him. A tech had been holding the petri dish that time, and with his other hand, he’d taken hold of the soldier’s flaccid length and pressed it against the lip of the glass dish, squeezing roughly to draw back his foreskin. Another tech, standing at the head of the table above him, had been holding him firmly by the jaw, pushing him down, reminding him not to move again. He had been spread too wide to feel the insertion of a secondary tool and with his head held firmly against the table, he couldn’t see what it looked like, but no amount of memory erasure or cryostasis had let him forget the waves of electricity that followed. He knew the feeling of electricity - it was a familiar enemy, but the techs had found a new way to utilize it, and he hated it - maybe more than he hated the chair. The hot, pulsating feeling had shot through his prostate and up his spine and down his legs, his abdomen had seized up and, tears itching at the corners of his tightly shut eyes, he’d ejaculated into the sample container, with no pleasure or control or desire, and it had gone on and _on_ into agonizing, long seconds. Repeated. The second jolt came, and every muscle in the lower half was tense and cramped, and his belly felt like a fire had been lit inside it. By the time the unknown tool had been removed, the restraints were hardly necessary. He hadn’t struggled anymore - too exhausted. Too afraid.

“Soldier?”

Pierce’s voice cut through the memory like a knife, and suddenly the Asset could hear the heart-monitor again, the even rhythm of its chimes having become frantic beeping, like a tripped alarm. He felt Pierce’s gloved knuckles brush against the back of his bare thigh, like the man was trying to anchor him in the present.

“What I’m going to do isn’t going to hurt. You don’t have to be scared.” The beeps on the monitor slowed, but only a little. “You may have had a procedure like this done before, and it might have been unpleasant. But if you behave yourself, it really doesn’t have to be bad. Hey, you never know,” he laughed softly. “You might even think it feels good. It’s not against the rules to _enjoy_ it a little.” He came to stand beside the table, and the Asset heart a low buzz that made him cringe. “It’s alright. It’s harmless, I promise. I’m holding it right now, and it’s not hurting me. Here, is it alright if I lay it in your hand?”

The Asset hesitated, but eventually responded, “Yes, sir.”

Pierce let his fingers touch the Asset’s hand first, and then slowly lowered whatever he was holding into the soldier’s palm. He nearly dropped it when he felt the sudden vibrations against his skin, but Pierce held it there long enough for the Asset to realize that it wasn’t causing him any pain. The heart monitor remained steady. He wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed it lightly, tested its size and texture, and then, to show his trust, lifted it back up into Pierce’s waiting hand. The low buzz stopped as Pierce turned the device off.

“I’m going to put that inside off you and press it against your prostate. It might feel strange at first, but you’ll get used to it, and it won’t hurt you. You have my word. Once I insert it, I’m going to turn it on. The feeling may be a little unfamiliar or overwhelming, but if you can relax and lie still, you don’t have anything to worry about. Is that understood?”

The Asset nodded his assent. “Yes, sir.”

The first sensation was the warmth of Pierce’s hand, cupping his testicles and lifting them gently. When the device that Pierce had shown him pressed against his entrance, it was slick with lubricant. Pierce pushed in just a few centimeters and pulled back out, as if he was giving the soldier a moment to acclimate, and then, in one smooth, easy motion, pushed it inside. The Asset let out the breath he’d been holding and felt his cock twitch as a fresh supply of blood rushed to the apex of his thighs.

“Alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

He felt Pierce’s thumb move to press something at the base of the device, and then his whole body was lit up with the most unfamiliar, enjoyable sensation he had ever experienced. His eyes shot open underneath the soft towel which still covered them. For the first few seconds, he didn’t allow himself to breathe, afraid that he might make a noise. It took all of his self-control to stay still and flat against the table as heat spread from his pelvis and into his legs and stomach, coiling in his chest like a spring.

“Deep breaths,” Pierce ordered gently.

The Asset took twenty-seven deep, controlled breaths. The twenty-eighth was shorter, sharper, and the twenty-ninth hitched in his chest. He barely felt Pierce’s fingers on his cock, guiding it to press down into the sample container resting on his abdomen. The thirtieth caught in his throat and stuck there for what seemed like an eternity, as the spring in his chest coiled tighter, and when he finally found he could exhale, he groaned and hissed through gritted teeth, body shuddering uncontrollably, feet trembling in the stirrups as his orgasm rolled through him like a heat wave. Pierce held the device in place until the last waves had finally ebbed. The Asset sighed, boneless, every nerve alight, when he finally turned it off.

“You did fine,” said Pierce, removing the instrument slowly, carefully. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, sir.” The soldier’s voice sounded stronger.

“Good.” Pierce took away the sample dish and set it aside. The Asset heard the stretch and snap of Pierce’s latex gloves, and the rustle as they fell into the trash bin. The room suddenly seemed warmer, and the the soldier could feel the flush on his face and throat spreading down to his chest. Pierce snapped on a fresh pair of gloves. The glass thermometer slid in with no resistance this time, but the sensation of the cool glass against his over-sensitized flesh made the Asset gasp, pangs of arousal shooting through his pelvis as he continued to shudder involuntarily against Pierce’s stabilizing hand on the back of his thigh.

“99.8 degrees,” said Pierce. “Only a degree lower than your usual BBT. I’ll recommend that they forego the treadmill.”

The snap and rustle of gloves again. The exam light clicked, and the sliver of white light creeping in from the bottom of the cloth over the Asset’s eyes darkened.

Then the cloth lifted away from his face. The soldier looked up at Pierce, making unintentional eye contact for a moment before dutifully directing his gaze toward the ceiling.  In the periphery of his vision, he could still see the man’s expression and features, chiselled and simplified by the sole illumination of the red heat lamps, and he tried to study them, to commit them to memory. Pierce looked pleased. He had _pleased_ Alexander Pierce. That was his purpose, and he had fulfilled it. The thought gave him a strange, unfamiliar sense...he felt pleased with _himself_. He felt _valuable_.

“Hmph,” Pierce chuckled, the corner of his mouth curling slightly as his weapon bit back a proud smile beneath him. “And to think, they tried to tell me that you were badly behaved when you woke up.”


End file.
